Zero, Zilch, Nothing
by johnsarmylady
Summary: A case wrap-up goes wrong, leaving a criminal mastermind at large with a grudge against the Baker Street boys. Shameless Johnlock Slash, just for the hell of it, Rated M.


**Thanks to MapleleafCameo for inspiring me!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, if I did I'd share...well, maybe...**

Chasing criminals through the streets of London was nothing new for Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson, but the unusually warm weather made it difficult and uncomfortable.

Greg Lestrade, following John's instructions – yelled breathlessly into his mobile phone as he jumped out of the way of the speeding car – had directed two of his officers to give chase, while he doubled back with Sally Donovan to close the net on the others being chased by the consulting detective and his blogger.

They caught them, but the car chase was less successful, adding fuel to the fire of Sherlock's scathing criticism of the Met and the standard of its officers.

"I can't do everything for you Lestrade" he snarled as the frustrated DI relayed the news. "I can solve the crime for you, chase the perpetrators over several miles and run them straight towards you, but even I can't be in two places at once!"

"Not for want of trying though" John muttered. Sherlock glared in response.

Returning from handing their two prisoners over to the officers in the police van, Sally fanned herself with her hand and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's trademark Belstaff.

"Even in this heat Freak?"

"Leave it, Donovan" Greg had spotted the look in John's eye that warned it wouldn't bode well for the Detective Sergeant if she pursued that particular course.

Sherlock ignored the woman, turning back to Lestrade to ask "Where do you plan to start looking for Guillam?"

The DI shrugged. "Any clues?"

With a disgusted snort the consulting detective turned away.

"Take that as a no then" Sally commented.

"Zero" John snapped. "Zilch. Nothing." He drew a calming breath, and continued "We had hoped to wrap this up here, but…"

"Yeah, yeah, alright" Greg held his hands up in surrender.

"No, it's not alright" The baritone growl sounded dangerous as Sherlock stepped up, nose to nose with the older man. "Guillam's not the most amenable of people at the best of times – and now we've broken up his little network he'll want blood."

"So get over it" Sally was eyeing the street, looking for somewhere to get a cool drink. She didn't see the look of incredulous anger steal across the young man's face.

The blond doctor stepped around his flatmate to stand between him and Donovan.

"Come on," he said, flicking a glance towards the main road "let's get home – it's too hot to stand here arguing"

Sherlock paused, nodded, and without another word to Lestrade or Donovan, fell into step beside his friend.

"I need a shower" Greg heard John remark as they walked away

"I need one more than you" Sherlock replied

"Not my fault you decided to wear the coat."

"But you'll use all the hot water."

By that time they were almost out of earshot, and whatever reply John made was lost to the two slightly stunned police officers.

"Maybe they should….."

"Don't even go there!" Greg sighed.

xXx

Less than an hour later in the bathroom of 221B Baker Street the curly haired detective leaned one-handed against the tiled wall, warm water running down his back, his free hand cupping the back of John's head as they explored each other's mouths as if it was their first time all over again.

A low moan echoed in the confines of the shower as John's soap slicked hands gently teased Sherlock's sensitive nipples before working lower, drawing small circles across the wet flesh of his belly, following the trail of hair from navel down to his jutting erection, finally taking hold of him. Their lips parted, and Sherlock opened his eyes to look down into the smaller man's lust-blown pupils.

John smiled up at him, stretching up to bite at his lover's full lower lip, he then laved his tongue across it, and all the while his clever, calloused fingers wrapped around him, stroking and teasing. Moving his free hand down John's back, Sherlock elicited a shuddering growl from the man trapped between his tall lithe body and the shower wall, and he took that sound as permission to give reciprocal massage. It didn't take long for either man to reach orgasm, leaving them breathless and shivering under the rapidly cooling water.

Grinning and giggling, they quickly rinsed themselves off and climbed out of the shower, grabbing towels and swatting at each other.

"Ouch!" John yelped as the end of Sherlock's towel snapped at his arse.

"Tea, slave" the tall man ordered, pushing him out of the bathroom.

John headed to the kitchen, wrapping his towel around his hips and grumbling good naturedly as he put the kettle on and grabbed mugs from the cupboard.

"What next then, Sherlock? There can be little hope that Guillam will just lay low for a few months, he'll want to recoup his lost revenue"

"Hmm" the consulting detective was stretched out on the couch, wearing just a loose pair of boxer shorts. "How did you deal with it?"

John frowned as he put Sherlock's mug on the coffee table, perching himself beside it and taking a sip of the strong brew.

"Deal with what?"

"The heat, John, how did you deal with the heat?"

"In Afghanistan? You didn't really 'deal' with it; you just got on with it until you acclimatised"

Sherlock groaned and reached for his drink, watching as the other man stifled a yawn.

"I've ordered dinner from Angelo's"

John smiled and put a foot onto the couch, poking gently at a bony hip.

"Stop avoiding the question. What do you think Guillam'll do now?"

"If I were him, I'd be planning a way to get a certain detective and his doctor out into the open, where I could take them out of the game. Then I'd look to Scotland Yard. The two men in custody are too unimportant, but I'd want revenge on the officers who arrested them"

"Reassuring" John said drily as the doorbell rang. Glancing out of the window he saw Angelo's Billy staring up at him. Pulling his bathrobe on over the towel, he grabbed his wallet and headed downstairs to get the food.

xXx

Even with the window open the heat in the bedroom was stifling. Sherlock lay for a while on his side, watching John sleep, naked and undisturbed by the heat. Wishing he could acclimatise as easily as his friend, Sherlock rolled off the bed and donned his boxers once more, slipping out of the room and along the hall to the living room, hoping to find somewhere cool to sit and think.

As he stepped through the door into the dim and shadowed room, a deeper shadow to his left moved, the movement catching his peripheral vision. Instinct made him throw up an arm to protect his head, and he cried out as the lead piping cracked across his forearm.

Staggering towards the window, cradling his injured arm and shaking his head to clear the fog of pain, he saw Nicholas Guillam move into the room.

"So, Sherlock Holmes – I had hoped your reputation was more fiction than fact, but I was wrong," he clasped his hands in front of him, rocking back and forth on his heels. "And I do so hate to be wrong"

His gaze shifted to his henchman, and he jerked his head towards the injured detective. As the man moved, the distinct sound of a safety catch being released from an ex-army service revolver resonated around the room, and a soft but deadly voice spoke.

"Take one more step, and I'll put a bullet into Mr Guillam's brain"

The underling froze, the weapon hanging loosely in his hand.

"Now Mr Guillam, I'd like you to get down on your knees – slowly" as the man hesitated John added "I'm generally considered to be a patient man, Mr Guillam, but you have until the count of three before I pull this trigger. At this distance, I won't miss"

Reluctantly, the criminal sank to his knees, revealing to Sherlock's astonished gaze John, standing like an avenging angel, stark naked but for the gun in his hand.

"John"

"Are you okay?" for a brief moment worried blue eyes met grey pain filled ones, before his attention returned to the men he held captive.

"I think it may be fractured"

"Can you reach your phone?" seeing the brief nod he continued "Ring Lestrade, get back up here now"

As Sherlock pressed the speed-dial, John glanced at the minion with the lead pipe.

"You – face down on the floor. Now."

The man hurriedly obeyed. Guillam, thinking he'd take advantage of the distraction, twisted his body as he tried to rise to his feet. It was a bad move. John kicked him with the full force of his bare heel between the shoulder blades, and the man hit the floor, his face smacking into the carpet with enough force to rattle his teeth. John moved forward and placed on foot on the small of Guillam's back, leaning his weight onto it as a warning, his gun still pointing at the man's head.

"Sherlock, You're gonna need to go downstairs to let Greg in. I don't want you to move between me and laughing boy over there" he nodded at the henchman. "Can you walk along the couch and pass behind me?"

The injured man made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a hiss of pain.

"I'll do it, although we may have difficulty getting some clothes on you before they arrive"

John grinned

"You don't like me as I am?"

Sherlock gritted his teeth and climbed off the couch, then standing behind the doctor, his breath warm in the smaller man's ear as he spoke softly "I love you as you are, always"

The grin faded from John's face, and he swallowed. "Don't" His voice was barely a whisper.

Sherlock smiled as he made his way downstairs to the front door, arriving just as a bleary eyed Lestrade and an equally tired Donovan alighted from their car and crossed the pavement. For a moment he debated refusing the Detective Sergeant entrance, but the police officers were through the door and headed towards the flat before he could think of a plausible excuse.

As she passed him, Sally waggled her eyebrows at his state of undress, and he could have sworn he heard her comment 'Nice boxers, Freak' as she climbed the stairs. Suddenly this was going to be more fun than he had first thought, and he hurried up the stairs behind them, walking through the door in time to hear her gasp as she saw John.

The ex-army doctor nonchalantly turned his head to look at her and smiled a beatific smile.

"Good morning Sally"

**A/N: Also inspired by the title of the film Naked Gun…and a conversation that followed with MapleleafCameo, who always brings out the best (or worst?) in me! Thanks MLC!**

**This story also completes a challenge I set myself ages ago, to have a story (One-shot or multi-chapter) for each letter of the alphabet…I finally found my Z**


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